Seasons of Love
by windscryer
Summary: There are 525, 600 minutes in a year. These are just a few of those. Shules. Possible spoilers from all seasons, it will be noted in each chapter.
1. Midnights and Cups of Coffee

This will range from Shawn and Juliet friendship to full on SHIP-ship.

The titles and prompts are taken from the lyrics of the Rent song 'Seasons of Love' but that is where the similarity ends. They are plucked right out of context so don't bother trying to connect them.

And if they DO connect it's purely by chance.

Also, so not mine. Rent or Psych.

Dammit.

Tiny _**spoiler**_ for 03x01 Ghosts.

* * *

Juliet sighed, rolling over, knowing the change in position wouldn't help, but hoping she was wrong anyway.

A few minutes later she punched her pillow and sighed again.

When that failed to help she rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling.

She needed to sleep.

She had another long day of work ahead of her and she _needed_ to rest, blank her mind and shut down so she could start fresh in the morning.

Problem was, she couldn't sleep.

With a whimper she rolled to her side, burying her face in her pillow and willing sleep to come.

Nope. Nothing.

She was trying to decide if she should growl or cry in frustration when her phone rang.

She blinked, all thoughts of her insomnia gone as she frowned.

Who was calling her at one in the morning?

She stretched and snagged the phone with a fingertip, dragging it closer until she could wrap her fingers around it and pull it from the cradle, bringing it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"_Hi, Jules!_"

"Shawn?" she asked in confusion. She glanced at the clock. Yeah, it was one a.m. "What are you doing up?" she asked.

She could almost hear him shrug. _"I couldn't sleep. Which is weird because I am exhausted and usually have no problems dropping right off. But tonight I just can't. And I can't help but feel like it has something to do with you."_

There was a pause and she dropped her head back to the pillow, staring at the ceiling again.

"_Jules, are you having trouble sleeping?"_

She debated telling him the truth, but, well, he was psychic. He read truth for a living. Why bother?

"Yes."

There was another pause.

"_Get dressed."_

She half sat up at that, bracing on her elbows. "What?"

He ignored her. "_I'll be there in five minutes. No wait! Fifteen. See you then!"_ he said cheerily and hung up.

She pulled the phone away and stared at it.

It had no answers to offer so she replaced it on the cradle and with one more sigh fell back to her pillow.

She debated whether or not to actually do as he'd essentially ordered her.

Ten minutes later she was sitting in her living room waiting for Shawn to arrive.

o.o

He knocked and she answered. He smiled and she gave a half-hearted attempt at the same. His smile faltered, but he reinforced it and then silently gestured to Gus' car parked at the curb.

She arched an eyebrow, but he just shrugged and finally broke the silence.

"My bike won't work for what I have planned to help you sleep."

The eyebrow inched higher and he laughed, lightly, not at all offended, knowing her suspicion was pretty well deserved. "Nothing like that. I promise." He held up a hand like he was on the witness stand and her smile this time was a little more genuine.

"Okay," she said.

She zipped her jacket and locked the door and followed him to the car.

o.o

They drove for some time, soft, soothing music playing on the radio.

She was beginning to wonder if he was lost when she realized they were leaving the city.

She said nothing, not wanting to disturb the comfortable silence they'd settled into.

It wasn't making her sleepy, but it was allowing her to relax.

She couldn't completely stop her brain from running over the case that was causing her insomnia, but it did slow down a little.

She'd tried not thinking about it, but that hadn't worked. She just couldn't turn it off like that.

Sighing softly—again—she let her head rest against the window and wondered where Shawn was taking her.

o.o

The car came to a stop and she jumped and sat up, blinking and looking around. They were at a scenic lookout, the city spread below them, glittering as it sprawled over the valley. It was beautiful and she smiled a little at the sight of it.

It wasn't her city of birth, but one of choice. She didn't regret her decision for a moment.

"Did I wake you?" Shawn asked, turning the ignition to _Accessory_ so the radio would keep playing but the engine was off.

She shook her head. "I wish. I was just lost in thought."

Shawn's lips twitched, but he didn't say whatever he was thinking.

She didn't ask. She just turned to face him more fully.

"Now what?"

He reached into the foot well behind his seat and retrieved a thermos and two mugs.

She accepted one of the mugs and waited as he cracked the seal on the vacuum container.

The smell of coffee immediately flooded her nose and, like any true addict, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, exhaling contentedly.

Then her eyes opened and saw he was watching her closely.

Thankful for the low light, she felt the blush creep up her cheeks, but kept her voice level as she said, "Shawn, coffee won't exactly help me fall asleep."

"The coffee is for me," he said with a grin, pouring a mug.

He balanced it carefully on the dash and then recapped the thermos and exchanged it for a second.

This time an unfamiliar scent, vaguely apple in nature, wafted out.

"What is that?" she asked.

"This is for you," he said, filling her mug.

She took a cautious sip, eyebrows rising at the flavor which only reinforced the thoughts of apple, though it wasn't quite right.

"Chamomile," he said at her look of confusion. "A relaxant and natural sleep aid."

She smiled and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear as she took another sip.

"It's good."

"My mom used to make it for me before bed." He laughed and looked out over the city as Juliet tried to mask her surprise at hearing about the mysterious Mrs. Spencer.

"I was an energetic kid. I would go and go and go until I dropped like a brick. Unfortunately this point always came well after my parents intended to be asleep. So my mom, at her wit's end about how to get me to sleep at a reasonable time, looked everywhere for a solution. Being a psychiatrist, of course she tried all kinds of therapy things. None of them worked. Then one of our neighbors mentioned one day that she drank chamomile tea every night to help get herself to sleep. My mom thought, why not? She gave me a cup of tea half an hour before she wanted to go to sleep and by the time she was ready for bed I was down for the count."

Silence fell as Juliet continued sipping her tea.

A few more moments passed, then he started in again.

"When I was four my mom took me to the San Diego Zoo. My dad had a meeting in town, some regional law enforcement gathering or something, but Mom didn't have any clients scheduled that day so we went with him.

"While he spent the morning in his conference we went to the Zoo and then he met us for lunch and we saw more of the Zoo that afternoon." He laughed again, soft and affectionate as he recalled the memory.

"They had these geese. They weren't really confined to any area. They might not have been actual animals of the Zoo. Either way they were wandering the park looking for people to drop food—or hand it to them. This one, probably close to my height, biggest freaking goose I ever saw, walked right up to me and looked me in the eye. I was eating popcorn and he wanted some. He eyes me for a moment, then bends his head down toward my popcorn. I'm four and it's my popcorn so I pull it away.

"My mom, though, she just says, 'Shawn, can't you share?'"

"Well, yeah, of course I can. I'm not a _baby_," he says, indignation in his tone making Juliet chuckle. "So I take a piece of popcorn and hold it out to the goose.

"He eyes it—and me—some more, and then snatches it up. I remember it tickled, his beak scraping against my hand." He chuckled. "An instant bond was formed. I didn't want to see anything the rest of the day. And of course, he wasn't going to leave as long as I was feeding him. Another goose came over to try and get some of my popcorn, but that big goose just let out this massive honk and scared the other one away. And of course, being four years old, I had to try and imitate the honk." His grin widened.

"I did a pretty good job if I do say so myself."

Juliet laughed at the thought of a tiny Shawn honking like a goose.

"Well, like I said, I didn't want to do anything the rest of the day but stay right there and feed that goose, honking at him and having him honk back at me. Dad was pissed. Said we could see geese at the park by our home. He was paying to see monkeys and lions and elephants.

"My mom said she was just happy that I was having fun." His smile turned wistful and she felt a pang of sorrow for him, wondering if he was thinking about how things were simpler as a child. She knew his parents stayed together until he was a teen. At four he probably didn't know there was a problem—if there even was back then.

Then it cleared and he smiled at her again, uncapping the thermos and topping off her cup with more tea.

"I honked the whole way home and for the next two weeks I pretended I was a goose every chance I got."

"Is that how you earned your nickname?"

He looked momentarily surprised at her knowledge, then shrugged. "I guess. I'm not sure why it stuck, but yeah, probably."

She laughed quietly, then reclined her seat, perfectly content to let Shawn try to lull her to sleep. She still wasn't anywhere near that point, but she was a lot more relaxed. She closed her eyes, thinking that even if she didn't fall asleep, maybe she could at least rest her body and mind as much as possible while Shawn talked, his tone low and very conducive to relaxing. Maybe it would get her through another day.

"When I was seven, my dad and I went to the store to get a birthday present for my mom . . ."

o.o

Half an hour later he was carefully prying the mostly empty mug from her hands in her lap.

She was sound asleep.

If it hadn't been his intent all along, he'd be highly offended that her insomnia was cured by listening to him talk about his childhood.

But it had been his intent and he was just glad it worked.

He retrieved a blanket from the back seat and carefully tucked her in. It wasn't the most comfortable place to sleep, but at this point he was just glad she was unconscious. Bad sleep here had to be better than no sleep at home.

He watched her for a few moments, then pulled his phone out, dialing the number he needed quickly.

"Lassie?" he said when it was picked up on the fifth ring. "Of course I know what time it is."

He listened to irate grumbles of the head detective then said, glancing at the subject of his words, "Juliet's going to be late into work today."

He let the protest get about halfway into really building up into anger, then said, "No, I didn't corrupt her. But I did get her to go to sleep finally."

There was a pause and then a softly muttered expression of both annoyance and gratitude.

Shawn smiled.

"_That's doesn't change the fact that she's needed at work, Spencer,"_ Lassiter protested.

"No, it doesn't," Shawn agreed. "But this does: McGrath did it. Get a warrant and check his shed. There's a safe buried in the ground in the rear right corner of the floor, under the boxed cans of paint and about six inches of dirt."

There was silence for a long moment.

"_You're sure?_" Lassiter asked. "_I mean, _really_ sure?"_

"_I'm_ not, no," Shawn said. "But the spirits? They're positive."

Lassiter sighed. "_Do I need to act on this right now or can this wait until after I've gotten at least an hour or two of sleep?"_

"Nah. It'll keep," Shawn said. "He has no reason to believe that you're coming. He still thinks he got away with it."

"_All right. I'll tell Chief that O'Hara's going to be a little late. Make sure she's no later than nine though."_

"Will do, Lassie. See you later."

He ended the call and tucked the phone back in his pocket.

Another glance at the soundly sleeping Juliet and he reclined his own seat, snagging the other blanket from the back.

His phone alarm was set to wake them if his internal alarm didn't. He checked the locks on the doors, then cut then engine completely and got comfortable.

* * *

Review, plz&thx?


	2. Midnights and Cups of Coffee II

Juliet (and Luna) wanted to see Shawn's favor returned. So you guys get this little dollop of pure fluffy smush. :D

* * *

Shawn rolled over in bed and punched his pillow.

Stupid thing was all lumpy and uncomfortable.

Just like his bed.

And his sheets.

And his . . . oh hell, who was he kidding?

None of it was uncomfortable.

And yet, he couldn't sleep.

He sighed and lifted his head to get a look at the clock.

Two-oh-seven a.m.

Lovely. Fan-freaking-tastic.

Not like he was supposed to be up early in the morning.

With the name of a serial killer ready to give to the police no less.

Yeah, that was going to be fun. Playing the 'I'm sorry, Chief, but the spirits are being awfully quiet this week' card was going to suck.

How much longer would they keep him around if he couldn't come up with an answer for this case and soon?

He growled in frustration and pounded a fist on the bed, head resting on the other one where it propped him up.

"Come on, dude, there has to be something you missed!" he hissed at himself.

He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

He didn't bother closing his eyes. Despite what his dad said about it helping him focus, for this case it was unnecessary.

He'd been seeing the faces of the missing and dead children no matter the position of his eyelids for the last week and a half.

If only he could change them out and get a glimpse of the person killing them instead . . .

He let his eyes close anyway, wishing that the exhaustion he felt would take over and send him into sleep, but, no, he wasn't nearly that lucky.

And then the phone rang.

He frowned, glanced at the clock again, then snagged the beeping, vibrating device from the nightstand and flipped it open, putting it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"_Hey, Shawn."_

He sat up, lips curving of their own volition.

"Detective O'Hara, what a pleasant—if somewhat oddly timed—surprise."

He could almost hear her blushing. _"Sorry. I know it's late . . . early . . . whatever. But I kept having this thought and I wondered if, maybe since you're a psychic, you could help me with it?"_

He leaned back against the headboard and smiled. "Sure thing, Jules, what's up?"

"_Well, I was having trouble sleeping."_

"Oh yeah?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"_Yeah, only thing is . . . I don't think it's my brain that's overworked. I mean, I'm exhausted. But I just can't sleep. So, I was wondering, is it possible that someone else could be projecting their insomnia onto me?"_

Shawn's smile both widened and softened.

"Maybe. Are you getting anything else? It might help identify who it is that's projecting onto you."

"_Actually, yeah. I keep thinking about pineapples. Pineapples and George Washington at the White House."_

Shawn blinked. "Huh."

"_Yeah. What's really weird is that, George Washington didn't live in the White House. It wasn't even built yet."_

"Well, is it _the_ White House? Maybe you're picking up something from someone named Washington who lives in a house that's painted white."

"_Maybe . . ."_

He blinked again and then his smile turned a shade sly.

"Or maybe it's the road the house is on that's named Washington?"

"_That's it!"_

"What's it?"

"_The White House is on Pennsylvania __Avenue__, right?"_

"Yeah?"

"_Well here in Santa Barbara we have a Washington Avenue!_"

"We do," Shawn said with more than a little amusement. "In fact, my apartment building is located on Washington Avenue."

There was a pause.

"_Shawn, are you having trouble sleeping?"_

Shawn wanted to laugh, but his head spiked with a reminder of how tired he was and he ended up sighing as he rubbed at the part of his skull hiding the offending throb.

"Maybe," he admitted softly.

"_I'll be there in fifteen minutes,"_ she said and hung up.

He did chuckle now, but it ended on a wince as the headache lashed out again.

He just wanted to sleep. Was that really so much to ask?

But if he couldn't sleep, spending time with Juliet wasn't a bad second choice.

o.o

He was in the front room watching an infomercial for the Sham-wow when she knocked at his door.

He rose and opened the door, smiling at the sight of her.

"Hi, Jules."

"Hey, Shawn," she said.

He nodded at the canvas bag she had slung over one arm.

"What's in the bag?"

She smiled. "Supplies."

He arched an eyebrow and grinned.

"Now that sounds-"

"Shawn, I don't think you're going to fall asleep in your doorway. Maybe we could go in to where you have, say, a couch? Or a bed?"

Shawn's grin turned downright wolfish.

"Keep it G-rated, Psychic, or I go home and take a horse tranquilizer."

The grin died, replaced by confusion. "You keep horse tranquilizers on hand?"

She rolled her eyes and pushed past him.

"Not right now, but it might not be a bad idea to change that policy."

Entering the room and looking around, she turned to face him.

"Now, where do you want to do this? Here?"

Shawn shrugged, biting his tongue to keep further comments that might make her leave from escaping.

"Shawn?" she asked, eyebrows rising.

"Well, here's fine."

She surveyed the couch, then shook her head.

"Fine maybe, but . . . You might be able to sleep here, but it wouldn't be good sleep. Where's your bedroom?"

Shawn just about choked on his tongue. But he managed to conceal it with a cough.

"That way," he said, pointing to the hallway.

She nodded and headed back.

Shawn took a deep breath and followed.

o.o

She was unpacking her bag onto the nightstand when he entered.

A single large, purple candle sat on the small table and she pulled out a lighter and flicked it with her thumb.

Once the flame caught she replaced the lighter in her bag and pulled out a thermos.

"You'll need a mug."

He nodded and ducked out, grabbing one from the kitchen.

When he came back she was standing by his CD player on the other side of the room, tabbing through the tracks.

She stopped and the soft sounds of waves on the beach with the intermittent cry of a gull filled the room.

She nodded and then turned to face him.

"Pour yourself a cup," she said, "and have a seat on the bed."

He did as she said, smiling when the familiar smell of chamomile tickled his nose, along with . . . was that lavender?

He looked at the candle.

"It's a relaxant. Or, at least that's what the girl at the store said," she admitted.

The corners of Shawn's lips dipped briefly down. "Okay."

He took a drink of the tea and then put a knee on the bed.

"Should I be facing you or . . ."

"Away," Juliet said.

"All right." He situated himself in a cross-legged seat in front of her and took another drink.

"Now," Juliet said, "take your shirt off."

He almost choked on his next sip of tea.

"I'm sorry?"

He didn't expect the low chuckle.

"Why, Shawn, the sudden display of modesty is-"

"No, I just . . ." he tried to explain. "I thought . . . I mean . . . you said . . ."

"I said G-rated. You're right." There was a pause and he tried not to make it too obvious that he was relieved. "We might have to up it to PG."

He took another drink of tea and wished it was something a little bit stronger.

"Come on, shirt off."

"Jules," he said weakly, "can't we just . . . um . . ."

Her head appeared over his shoulder and he half turned to look at her.

"It really bothers you to take your shirt off?"

"Well, I mean, not . . . in certain . . . uh, situations. But this . . . isn't one of them."

"Huh."

"I'm sorry, Jules."

"No, it's fine."

"I just-"

She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

"Really, Shawn. It's okay. The point of this is to help you relax and if it makes you uncomfortable to take your shirt off then you won't be relaxed."

"Really?"

"Yeah, Shawn," she said, pulling back and still sounding quite amused. "I just never imagined that if I gave you the chance to take your shirt off you'd refuse, that's all. But I can still do a massage with it on. Don't worry about it."

He sighed and looked at the tea.

"Okay," he said and then set the cup aside.

Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, he grabbed the hem and lifted upwards, yanking it off in one quick motion.

"Shawn, really-"

"No, you're right, Jules. It's . . . dumb."

"It's not dumb, Shawn," she said sympathetically.

"No," he said with a self-deprecating laugh, "it is. I mean, if this were that . . . other . . . situation, I'd be okay with it. It's just when it's not . . ."

She laid her hands on his shoulders and leaned forward again. "It's different. I know."

His eyes closed. Yeah, okay, this was so not how he imagined this going.

She leaned back and dug her thumbs into his shoulders.

"Concentrate on your breathing," she said as she worked.

Shawn did, forcing his attention to the air going in and out of his lungs and the fabulous pressure of her hands manipulating his muscles. He didn't even realize how tense he'd been until just now. No wonder he couldn't sleep, he thought, letting his eyes drift shut.

She continued to push and pull and force his muscles into a state that resembled warm taffy, zeroing on the knots when and where she found them.

And she hummed.

His eyes blinked open when he realized that, but it was nice. Combined with the waves and the gulls and the lavender—which really was kind of soothing—it was a very nice effect.

His eyes closed again and his head fell forward.

He even forgot about the fact that he was totally half-naked.

He had no idea how long this fantastic interlude went on, but her hands slowed and then stopped with one last squeeze of the junction between his neck and shoulders.

"Thanks, Jules," he said softly, not wanting to break the spell.

"I'm not done yet, Shawn," she said, also softly. "You're not asleep. Lay down. On your stomach."

His eyes came open, but only to half mast.

He thought about making a joke, but decided that it was way too much effort. Plus, she might stop and while he could accept that, he didn't want to.

So he just shifted and laid down on his stomach, one arm tucked under his pillow.

He turned his head so it faced her and watched though hooded eyes as she knelt next to him.

She resumed her ministrations—and her humming—and he felt the air slip out of his chest on a contented sigh.

He wanted to say thanks, or tell her how good a friend she was to come over at two am and give a massage just to help him try to sleep, but coherent thoughts were getting harder to hold onto.

He couldn't even remember at the moment what had been keeping him awake.

His eyes slid closed and he tried to make a mental post-it to do something nice for her tomorrow, but wasn't sure if it stuck before he faded completely into oblivion.

o.o

He woke to his alarm and slapped it off with a groan, then rolled over.

He'd been having such a nice dream too.

About Juliet and a candle and her lovely hands.

He sniffed out of reflex, then frowned when his nose detected the faintest hint of lavender.

Weird.

He remembered that from his dream.

He sat up and scratched idly at his chest-

And stopped cold when he realized his shirt was missing.

He looked around, then spotted the half-melted candle and the empty mug and the note on the nightstand.

_I left the candle and the CD in case you needed it again. Also, I let Chief know that you might be a little bit late because the ritual you were performing to commune with the spirits had a specific time frame. ;) See you later. Juliet_

Shawn's lips curled upwards. She used a winking smiley face. "Damn. I love her."

He glanced at the clock and realized that she'd also set his alarm back by a few hours.

He bit his lip and wondered just how long he could pretend he was doing a ritu-

Rituals.

Of course!

_Rituals!_

He all but jumped out of bed, grabbed his jeans and the first boxers and shirt he laid hands on, and ran for the bathroom.

Juliet was a saint.

Or a Muse.

Whatever.

Maybe both.

Because he'd finally gotten some sleep _and_ he'd gotten his answer.

* * *

Review, plz&thx?


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